Chapter 9
A/N: Lyrics are from The Blesssing by Celtic Women. Again, my own lyrics are bad.
Arwen walked calmly and quietly through the halls of Rivendell. Reaching the gardens, she strolled silently through the new growth of an early spring. Her beautiful face was composed and her eyes bright. She fought down the dread she had felt in the night. She was looking for solace and knew where it might be found.
The gardens were wet with dew as she stepped delicately along the paths. The golden light of the dawn kissed her fingertips as she reached up to inspect new shoots and buds. She found joy in the warmth and growth of the earth. It reassured her, comforted her in a way nothing else could. It was a renewal, a promise that life would continue.
Arwen loved this land. Although she had spent much time in Lothlorien, Rivendell was her home. She knew every corner, every stream. This was the place she belonged. Her father's growing entreaties that she leave, join the others in Valinor were easy to ignore here.
How could she leave? Her life was here, with Aragorn. He had been wrapped around her heart for far too long for her to believe he would not return to her. Memories of him were all around her.
As she walked her mind travelled back to earlier and happier days spent in his company. Together they had walked these paths, listened to the gently falling water. The green scent in the air was strong as she strayed from the path and her soft bare feet gently bent the new grass. It triggered other memories.
She recalled a time when they had both been flush with new love. Smiling secretly to herself she remembered his voice, his eyes, his tender words. Felt once again the promise of his kisses. She shivered to recollect the beat of her heart as she had confessed that she returned his love.
Yes, her choice had been made. She would stay with him, in this land. There were no doubts to trouble her now. She was bound to Aragorn, and he to her, and they were both tied to this world. The fears that troubled her sleep were forgotten.
As she made her way back to her father's house, she stopped as the strains of a delicate arpeggio on the standing harp reached her ears. She was surprised to hear Athelas raise her voice in song. Her friend was not a strong singer, and Arwen was fascinated by the power in her voice now.
She recognized it, of course. The song had been old when the Last Alliance set out to face the Enemy. A blessing on one setting out on a journey or far from home. If she remembered aright, it had even been sung the night before the Fellowship left. But never had she heard it like this. It was not psalm, it was prayer.
Athelas began the second verse and Arwen found herself gently and softly singing along with her.
"In the nighttime when you sleep,
Oh, I bless you while a watch I keep,
As you lie in slumber deep,
My blessing goes with you."
She realized the truth of it. Never before had she worried about Aragorn as she had in the preceding nights. She dreamt of him, saw him fall. Yet she would take upon her sleeplessness for all the nights ahead if it would protect him. The quest must not fail. She shuddered, the thought of what could happen should they fail forcing itself upon her once again. She realized that she was fighting the great fear with the smaller ones, the personal ones.
When the storms of life are strong,
When your wounded, when you don't belong
When you no longer hear my song,
My blessing goes with you.
He was so far from her, and yet ever beside her. She could close her eyes and bring his face before her, his very scent. She felt again a stab of worry for him, her heart stopping for a brief moment as she scolded herself. He was a fierce warrior, tried in many battles. He was surrounded by companions who were both brave and valiant. The thought of Legolas came briefly to mind, and she felt soothed by the knowledge that the elf was with him. If he were wounded, Gandalf was there. There was nothing in the world that could harm Gandalf. The thought cheered her.
"When your weary heart is tired,
If the world will leave you uninspired,
When nothing more of love's desired,
My blessing goes with you.
His heart would never fail him. She had known him, loved him, long enough to know that nothing but death would stop him. He had seen so much, lived through so many battles. But underneath the warrior was a poet, a dreamer. The soul of a king, hidden beneath the guise of the wanderer. She comforted herself with that thought. She had given him her heart, there was nothing else for her to do. She must hope, she must fight the dark terrors of the night.
This is my prayer for you
There for you, ever true.
Each every day for you
In everything you do.
Her lips trembling, she gave herself over to a new determination. She would not allow herself to think of the darkness that could come, she would concentrate on the joy that must come.
And when you come to me
And hold me close to you
I bless you and you bless me, too.
The closing words of the song renewed her, strengthened her. They would succeed. The shadow she felt now would lift and life would continue. It was the spring's promise to her. It was her promise to him.
She walked quietly to Athelas' door and knocked gently. When she entered she found her friend wiping her damp cheeks. Arwen smiled at her in understanding and embraced her as she stood. They held each other for a moment, then Athelas began the bustle that Arwen recognized as her hiding deep emotions.
Sitting together, sipping a calming tea, they were discussing the pattern for the hem of the new gown when Elrond knocked and entered, his face grave.
"Gandalf has fallen," he told them, his voice stark.
Arwen gasped in horror, naked fear on her face. The teacup fell through Athelas' fingers to smash on the stone floor.
Legolas sat on a certain rock some distance away from Haldir's home. He had come here hoping the happy memories of this part of Lothlorien would help salve the grief in his heart. Since the fall of Gandalf, he had found himself doubting everything about this quest. If Gandalf could be taken, was there any hope left for them? Galadriel believed there was, and he would follow Frodo until the end, but he found the pain in his soul was hard for him to bear. It had taken years for him to recover from his mother's passing, and he'd had his father's help. Here he was far from home.
He heard footsteps behind him, and slipped of the rock to face the March Warden.
"I have a message for you, kinsman," Haldir said, coming up softly from behind him, a kind glint in his eyes. "It came from Imladris with Elrond's letters to the Lady. I wanted to give it to you when you were alone. This is the first chance I've had." He held out a small piece of parchment, folded many times and sealed with wax. It was not quite flat, and Legolas looked up at Haldir with a question in his eyes.
"We both know who it's from," Haldir said gently. He gripped Legolas by the shoulder, then pulled him into a rough embrace. "She would never forgive me if I left you alone with your despair. Come and eat with us, when you've finished your business here. I've some of that strong wine you were both so fond of." He smiled at the young elf, and left him alone with his letter.
In the fading sunlight Legolas carefully broke the wax seal and unfolded the paper. A single leaf fell out, long and green and beginning to dry. He picked it up gently and smiled. A green leaf of athelas. His eyes scanned the short message penned on the parchment.
"My lord, she waits, as do I."
He smiled and held the leaf up, breathing in it's gentle scent. A play on both their names, they often used the leaves in messages to each other. Feeling a small part of the grief in his heart lift, he made his way back to Haldir's home.
The company settled in for the night in the comfortable pavilion provided by Celeborn. Legolas joined them after a while, explaining that he'd spent the evening with some old friends. Aragorn smiled at him, and watched the elf settle himself into the low branches of one of the great trees that made up the walls of their shelter.
"Aragorn," Gimli said quietly, "yon elf, is he alright?" He nodded towards the tree Legolas was perched in. The elf was leaning back against the trunk, his hair glowing in the faint light. His long legs, stretched out along the limb, and one shoulder, were all Aragorn could see of him.
The Ranger turned to look sleepily at the dwarf. "What do you mean?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"He's making a strange noise." Gimli told him, somehow looking a little abashed, but mostly concerned. "Almost as if he is buzzing."
Aragorn was instantly awake. Sitting up, he listened intently, his face furrowed. Elves did not fall prey to disease, but Legolas had been devastated by Gandalf's fall. Elves were not conditioned to deal with death. It simply did not make up part of their world view. Grief could do terrible things to an elf.
As he recognized the low sound, some of the tension left Aragorn's face. Relieved, he turned to the worried dwarf. "He's singing, Gimli."
"Singing?" the dwarf asked loudly, clearly startled. Aragorn motioned him to be silent, but it was too late.
"I can stop if it bothers you," Legolas said affably from his comfortable haven in the tree across the clearing. "I was trying to be quiet as to not wake the others."
"What singing?" Merry asked sleepily from beside Pippin.
"Go back to sleep, Merry," Aragorn said softly, smacking Gimli in the arm. "You don't want to wake the others. Especially Frodo. He needs his rest."
"Don't worry about me, Aragorn. I'm already awake." Frodo's voice came out of the darkness.
"I wasn't asleep anyway." Boromir said from the other side of the pavilion. "You might as well sing it louder so we can all hear it, Legolas."
The elf swung down out of the tree and took a seat by Sam. The young hobbit was sitting up groggily, and Legolas smiled at him briefly before closing his eyes and beginning his song in a soft warm voice.
"Is that the same song?" Gimli asked, catching the Ranger's eye. "It's hard to tell when he's not buzzing."
Aragorn hushed him, and as Legolas sang, the companion's drifted off to sleep, some of the horror of the past days dimming.
In the morning, to the surprise of the rest of the companions, Legolas invited the dwarf to join him in a walk among the great trees. Gimli readily agreed, and they were soon hiking along together. Legolas seemed to have a destination in mind, and Gimli was content to follow.
"I was very impressed with your words to the Lady, Gimli." Legolas said, as they made their way past the great roots of the mallorn trees.
"I speak as I find," Gimli said. He was unsure if he should explain to the elf the feeling he'd had, of looking into the face of the enemy and discovering love there. Something in his expression, however made an impression on Legolas.
"Sometimes, it is easier to accept things as they seem, than to take the time to discover the truth. It takes courage to look into the heart of anything."
"That is does, lad." Gimli agreed, wondering where the elf was leading with this conversation.
"I would say something personal to you, Gimli." Legolas began, then stopped, looking about him. "I have not always been charitable towards you," he continued bluntly, leading the dwarf around another massive tree.
Gimli looked at him with surprise, then he chuckled. "Perhaps I have not always given you reason to, Legolas," he replied. The elf smiled down at him.
"Or I to you," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I would have us be friends." He led the dwarf up to the rock he'd been seated on the previous day. As he settled himself on it, Gimli noticed the change in his face, the sense of peace that seemed to descend on the elf.
"This place is special to you?" the dwarf asked, settling himself beside the elf and pulling out his pipe.
"It is. Do you believe in visions, Gimli?"
"I don't know about elf visions, but I'm sure that such things exist. Have you had one, Legolas? Is that why you brought me here?"
"I was told of one. In it I left on a journey with a dwarf. I have reason to believe that the dwarf was you."
"Out of all the dwarves you've travelled with, of course." Gimli pointed out, packing his pipe. Legolas chuckled at that.
"There was that in the vision that gives me hope for this journey. I didn't realize it until last night. I thought I might share that hope with you."
Gimli lit his pipe and shook out the match, careful to make sure it was extinguished before burying it in the loamy soil. He looked at the elf intently. "It's kind of you, Legolas. We could all use a little extra faith, especially since Moria. May I ask whence this vision came?"
Legolas looked out at the trees. "My wife," he said, in a quiet voice. "I was married, right over there. She told me of it then." He gestured to a space between the huge mallorns.
Gimli choked for a moment on his smoke. "Wife!" he sputtered. "I can't imagine you putting enough words together to court anyone!"
Legolas grinned mischievously at him, a real smile that reached his eyes. "I had a little help. My Lady has certain tenacious friends, as well as being very persuasive herself." He laughed in remembrance. "As I recall, her exact phrase was 'thick headed, wooly witted thing'."
Gimli's eyes danced as he laughed along with the elf. "I can't wait to meet her. She sounds delightful!"
"Oh, but you have, my friend. You recall the Lady Athelas?"
He laughed again at the surprise behind the dwarf's beard. "That charming, amiable girl? She never dropped a hint! I thought she was of Imladris!"
"She grew up in Lord Elrond's house with Lady Arwen. Her kin are here in Lorien, which is how we came to be married here. It is also where she had the vision of which I was speaking earlier. Neither of us understand all of it, but enough of it to light me through these dark days. I would share that with you, as we both seem to be part of it."
"I thank you," Gimli said, formally, inclining his head. Then he grinned. "You did well, lad. The Lady Athelas." He looked delighted. "I never would have thought either of you old enough."